From The Shadows
by Drea Jackman
Summary: From the shadows it comes, unexpected, unwanted, but ever present nevertheless. For You Series, scene 2.


**Title:** From The Shadows  
**Author:** Drea Jackman  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sylar/Claire  
**Summary:** From the shadows it comes, unexpected, unwanted, but ever present nevertheless.

**Series:** For You Series  
**Spoilers:** Volume 3.  
**Word Count:** 2,031

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Heroes or any of the characters involved in this story. It's all just a bit of non-profit fun.  
**Notes:** A series of prequels to fill out the back-story referenced in 'For You'. May eventually include post fic instalments; we'll see how it goes.

Claire sat idly scratching at the inside of her open folder with a pen while the clock ticked down the minutes until freedom. Life, according to her, sucked royally! These days she was either forced to spend her free time under lock and guard at home, or under the watchful eye of her teachers in school. Being the daughter of a U.S. Senator meant that the Petrelli's had no difficulty in providing a cover story for being watchful of her.

With a quiet, but drawn out sigh, she glanced at the clock. Five minutes to go, and she was already feeling shifty. Switching her glance to the classroom window, she couldn't help the poorly hid smirk of satisfaction creeping over her features. Five minutes and the normally twenty-minute drive from school to the Petrelli homestead would become nearly an hour with traffic. It was the only freedom she'd managed to afford herself after loudly rejecting her grandmother's offer of protection.

'Protection,' she sneered at the word in her mind. Physically, the notion already made her want to gag in disgust. Her father had tried to talk her round, Nathan that is. Noah had done his fatherly job and tried to convince her, but it was a half-assed job that even she had to give him credit for. He had wanted to watch her himself, but with both Angela and Claire on his case, he was convinced that his best contribution would be elsewhere.

It had been two months since she stormed out of Angela Petrelli's study, fists still pounding with the resonating impact of where she'd struck Sylar. The trip to and from school, while notably the most vulnerable points in her day, had been granted as hers provided she stick to a curfew. Two months and not a peep; the urge to gloat was riding high on the rim of her ego, but it would be childish to give in. Instead, Claire remained satisfied that while she retained her freedom forcibly, Sylar's desire to 'keep her safe' remained out of his reach and it was all thanks to her.

Before she knew it, class had adjourned for the day. Stuffing books into her backpack, Claire casually exited the campus and headed for her car. It was a Friday, just after six, and the parking lot was already half empty, no doubt due to the flood of students eager to start their weekend. As she opened the back door and threw her backpack inside, another few cars left in a hurry. Suddenly the place seemed void of life; empty parked cars, empty walkways usually filled with students going to and from class were now derelict.

Claire glanced around with a pang of anxiety. Warnings about Pinehearst's need for her had not fallen on deaf ears despite her reluctance to accept her family's forced security measures. When her eyes caught a bunch of students at the farthest end of the parking lot, her concern abated and she climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door. Starting her car, the stereo blared into life as she prepared to reverse out of her parking space. It was then that the icy chill sank to the pit of her stomach. There, in the middle of the deserted lot stood a single figure, wide eyes stark against ebony flesh.

Mouth agape for only a second, Claire recognised Knox and without hesitation, floored the accelerator. The car roared backward toward him, making solid impact before she threw it into drive and sped off into the street. She had barely made it toward town and busy streets when she barrelled around a corner to find another dark figure in the middle of the road. Before she could make them out, the steering wheel under her grip locked and refused to move.

The car was halted beyond her control and hair cascaded over her shoulders, blocking her vision briefly. The stereo still blared, and she could see another familiar figure getting closer, shaking his head with a defiant smirk that told her he wasn't done yet. Seconds later, the windshield shattered and the front of her car burst into flames.

Claire screamed.

She didn't realise the stereo had stopped booming until her ears began ringing with the sound of her own cries. The flames licked at her clothes, scorched her flesh and while she felt no pain, she realised she could still feel fear abundantly. In that instant she was sorry; sorry for being so stubborn when her father had wanted to protect her from this and sorry that she'd insisted she make the drive alone to preserve her independence. Her hands fought with the lock on her seat belt, the sound of men yelling from outside barely audible over the loud crackling and hissing of fire. The release snapped free as one voice rang out over the chaos around her and for an instant, relief washed over her ahead of the consuming darkness.

'Claire!' it yelled, uncharacteristically frantic.

Fighting unconsciousness, Claire could hear the man's cries grow closer until they were halted by the groaning of metal all around her. There was a violent shudder, as something broke free. Flames tore past her, seeking air to survive and she heard the same voice curse obscenities in pain over the roaring inferno. It was then that strong arms took hold of her, tugging her free of her metal prison until she felt the cool wash of air prickle at her skin. It wasn't painful of course, but it should have been.

'Claire,' the voice said again, softer but no less urgent.

Claire coughed and spluttered her way through taking in her surroundings, system already beginning to recover quickly from near deadly levels of smoke inhalation. Her vision became clearer and she registered the burning carcass of her beloved auto a few feet away as it became more distant. She couldn't lift her head fully to see who was backing away from the wreckage with her, but she could feel her own flesh begin to knit together and heal itself as the arms holding her suddenly tightened.

'Shit!'

Everything suddenly spun out of view as her saviour turned them both away from the flames, a loud whoosh preceding a deafening blast as the car exploded. The sound rang in her ears only a fraction of a second before the stranger's pained grunt; the larger frame covering her own jerked against the blast and their body was pushed into hers as the pair went crashing to the solid concrete below. For a long moment, all Claire could do was breath in gasps and let her ability do its work, nothing but the sound of flames crackling nearby to keep her company.

After a few long moments, she was able to register the weight of the other holding her down. He hadn't moved since the blast caught them both. Dimly she began to recall the familiarity in the voice she'd heard over the flames while she was trapped in the car, but it couldn't be, she'd made them promise. Before she could push him up off her to confirm her suspicion, he jerked suddenly as if waking up to find himself somewhere he hadn't expected to be, gasping for breath. She knew the feeling all too well herself.

'Claire?' he asked, already moving to push himself up to check her over.

Claire's heart sank.

'Sylar….'

Sylar's eyes scanned her quickly as if checking for lasting damage. Decimated remnants of burnt clothing and the furious, but shaken and bloodied cheerleader within were all they found.

'Are you okay?'

'Please,' she hissed angrily and pushed him the rest of the way off her. 'You were probably the one who did this.'

She knew it wasn't true, but she'd be damned if she gave _him_ any ground at this point. Not to mention the fact that there had been actual physical contact. Her skin was already crawling.

'Does it really look like it to you?' he offered casually as he stood slowly, brushing himself off as best he could and grimacing when he stretched aching muscles the wrong way. Idly he seemed to notice a fairly sized sheet of metal lying close to where they'd fallen and he tapped at it testing with a foot. Rubbing the back of his head, he found blood there too.

Claire didn't reply. To look at him, she knew there wasn't any comeback for the image standing blaringly obvious before her eyes. His suit was torn, burnt and bloodied just as her clothes were; his face and hands now healed, but still matted with blood and grime. With a sigh, she watched him go straight back to perfect little Gabriel Petrelli, chosen protector of their most valuable daughter.

Mopping blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, Sylar dutifully took in their surroundings checking for any more from Pinehearst. Only when he was sure they were alone did he return his attention to Claire.

'Are you sure you're okay?' he asked again, genuinely sounding concerned as he approached her cautiously.

'I'm fine,' she lied, and he knew it. 'Why are you here?'

'I'm not sorry,' he began, 'they'd have you right where they want you if I hadn't come.'

'Am I supposed to be grateful that I can't even trust my own father to keep you away from me?'

Sylar took a few steps, closing the distance between them. The urge to move away, to run overwhelmed Claire, but she held fast until he was standing a hair's breadth from her, forcing her to look up into his dark, vaguely angered eyes.

'I could try and apologise again, Claire,' his words came out harsher than he'd intended. 'What I did to you, I don't expect to earn your forgiveness overnight, but I will _not_ let your reluctance stop me from doing the right thing.'

Claire wanted to laugh and cry all at once. Absurd, she thought, that a monster hell bent on collecting abilities like they were stamps, could be lecturing her on doing the right thing. Then again, the properly raised little girl in her felt pangs of shame for her lack of gratitude. She knew Arthur's men would have her right now if it wasn't for Sylar's intervention. He'd come out of nowhere, from the shadows to save her when she needed him. It both humbled her and numbed her into stillness.

Sylar's expression softened at the mix of emotions reflected in her eyes as tears began to well up. This was his redemption, the soul survivor of his torment and hunger. He knew someday he'd be enough, and that someday her forgiveness would save his soul. Until then he would keep trying. His hand moved of its own volition and for just a moment, it was permitted to push a bloodstained lock of hair behind her ear in a soothing gesture.

It was all Claire could do to hold her ground. For the first time, she had caught the glimmer of something human in those dark eyes. Something that could have been capable of understanding how she felt, and why. His touch was testing and gentle, taking nothing more than she was willing to give in the comforting gesture offered.

'Claire!' another familiar voice shouted, growing closer.

Suddenly, Claire's thoughts were forced to recede from her body, back up into her head where it all clicked back into place. She glanced around quickly to see Peter landing nearby at a run, then back to Sylar. He was the enemy, the monster, and he wasn't supposed to be here. Angela, her father, she'd allowed whatever other protective measures they'd asked for with the promise that none would ever involve _him_. With intentional abruptness she pushed her way past Sylar, forcing his hand to recoil from the tentative gesture as if he'd been burned.

'Peter,' she greeted her favourite uncle with a hug.

Peter only nodded in his direction, offering him a stilted, but adequately appreciative thanks before turning back to the niece clinging comfortably to his arm. He fell in tow a few paces behind as Peter questioned Claire's wellbeing repeatedly, keeping his distance knowing he was clearly unwelcome.

It was time to go home.


End file.
